


Support Your Local PTA

by Frau_Eva



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Also Anthy Trolls Everyone, Gen, I Had So Much Fun Imagining What These Kids Parents Were Like Holy Fuck Ya'll, PTA Drama Is Only Fun In Fiction, See Where All Your Favs Get Their Horrible Personalities!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 22:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frau_Eva/pseuds/Frau_Eva
Summary: The Student Council can't do everything--sometimes the adults have to step in.





	Support Your Local PTA

This bake sale--Haruna Kaoru could already tell--was going to be a disaster.

It hadn't been her idea, mind you. Haruna's assistant Akari had compiled a good deal of research into the best options for a school festival--what would teach the most entrepreneurial skills, what would set the best example for the campus community in regards to ideal national values, or what could raise the profile of the campus or students themselves. But no, apparently all it took was Karin Arisugawa to finally look up from her blackberry phone with a shrug and declare, "My daughter Emiri said they all sell baked goods in America. She's doing a year abroad there, you remember?" and everyone just wanted that. It never mattered what the best solution was, only what was trendy.

As always, Itoko Saionji came earliest besides Haruna. Despite being roughly the same age, people kept assuming Itoko was far older. Her hair was much like her son’s, except always tamed into obedience with a flatiron and swirled into a bun. She wore her usual _iromuji_ kimono with the family crest on her shoulders and breast, a garment Haruna usually only saw at funerals or on old country ladies. The only sign of youth in her bearing was a too-thick mask of makeup and powder. Sometimes Haruna tried to imagine what Itoko must have been like as a child in braids and pleated skirts, yet always found the idea strangely implausible. "I made senbei," Itoko stated without emotion, walking up to the table in her stiff, straight-backed stride, "It is a family recipe dating back to 1250 AD."

Haruna sighed. "From before Japan discovered sugar?"

Itoko said nothing. Haruna took the tupperware wrapped in matching _furoshiki_ cloth. She never expected anything different. Itoko is clearly mentally elsewhere, probably already planning a new flower arrangement to sublimate her feelings into.

Haruna saw the Kiryuu's assistant Mio coming up behind her. At least Itoko is consistently present. "Couldn't make it yet again, I see?" Haruna asked.

Mio grimaced. "No, but I did go all the way to Shibuya to get Le Pain de Joel Robuchon's famous chocolate brioche!" She uncaps the cover with a flair and a smile. Her smile becomes pained as she waits on Haruna's approval.

The girl has a nervous overachieving personality that strikes a pang in Haruna’s heart, reminds her of herself in youth. So young, so eager to please. But they aren’t alike where it counts.

Subtle things show Mio isn’t entirely accustomed to the world she’s entered into. She’s pretty, certainly--and that itself isn’t unusual at all. Resumes in Japan have headshots for a reason. But there are subtle clues that pin her as an outsider reaching far higher than would normally be allowed. An expensive gold bracelet that’s too garish, too nouveau-riche. Nails just a smidge too long, just a shade too bright. A bra too well-padded. It’s all very like the Kiryuus.

Mio must have been so grateful for this job, when all these little flaws stood out and her middle class background never taught her to see them. This, Haruna decided, was the crucial difference between her in her youth and eager Mio. Haruna idly wonders--if any of the rumors are true--if both the son and the father has slept with her? And if so, do they know? Does it disgust them, this incest-by-proxy? Or does that add some extra lurid thrill?

Men were disgusting, Haruna concluded.

"That was very sweet of you, Mio-_chan_, but your employer should be setting a better example," Haruna says, in what she hopes is comforting and not cold. The dear girl does try, after all. "We should be setting an example that school activities are important and merit personal effort. Such an act would hopefully radiate down through us, through our children, and into the rest of the student body. I don't think we should expect of our children more than we're willing to put forth. Like I tell my daughter, I didn't go to the University of Tokyo to--"

"Oh, were we not supposed to buy stuff?" Karin had snuck up while Haruna was lecturing, still texting at lightning-pace on her blackberry. Haruna could never tell how sincere Karin is with the everpresent Gucci sunglasses over her eyes. "I just had my assistant pick something up from Pierre Gagnaire. Hope that's okay," she said with a shrug.

Haruna could have liked Karin. She really could have. Karin had been successful in marketing, enough that some had thought the firm might finally go to a woman for once. It was all given up once the ink on the marriage certificate had dried, but if she had devoted herself to her children’s education, maybe Haruna could find some commonality there. Instead, Karin occupied herself with her blackberry phone, lip injections, and the occasional modeling gig to pass the time. What would her two daughters think? That they could just marry right and hope for the best? Haruna knew better, too well.

Haruna pursed her lips. "That's not the point of the event! If it was, we might as well have just got this whole thing catered."

"Wait...." Karin actually looked up from her phone."Why didn't we?"

"Because!" Haruna hissed through gritted teeth. It's about effort! It's about setting an example! Its about not being able to buy your way out of everything!"

Mio looked from Haruna to Karin, dubious.

"Kaoru-san is very sensible," Itoko stated, "We must teach our children discipline through abnegation of our own desires."

Mio and Karin looked from Haruna to Itoko Saionji, dubious.

"Look, I made these heart-shaped cupcakes myself--well, Akari made them, but she's always been a better baker than me--but if I can bring homemade baked goods, so can you. I've had to deal with clients and cases all day, and...everything," Do not mention the divorce, Haruna, do not, you are better than this, you are not going to rage-cry at these kept women, "Do you think I felt like dealing with this too? Of course not! But we do it to show our children that education is important! You can get away with a lot of things with money, but not everything. Do you think I could have just bought my way into the University of Tokyo?"

"Probably," Karin muttered, temper finally fraying.

"Uh, excuse me?" This impending meltdown is momentarily paused by a chipper, short-haired woman. "Just stopping by to support the PTA." She held up a simple tray covered in foil. "I made brownies after work last night. They're from a box, but my niece always loves them. Anyway, I'm on the way to her class now--they're doing carnival games!" She puts the tray down on the PTA table and takes a sleek silver camera from her purse before leaving, heels clacking in her wake. Yurika Tenjou only comes to the occasional meeting--having to do some sort of mysterious job that entails world travel--but every time she shows up, she's invariably helpful and sincere. She makes Haruna's teeth hurt.

"Hello, yes? This is Parent Teacher Association, yes?" No, no, no, no, NO. Haruna had only seen her once from afar, but she'd recognize her anywhere. Her sun-kissed skin and short dark hair display the exotic wiles that tempted her husband away from the commonplace world of bills, responsibilities, and married life. Her sundress stands out in this sea of expensive business attire, highlighting her frivolous nature. Her slightly-imperfect Japanese and unburdened smile set her apart.

It's the homewrecker.

"I bring sweet food for the children, yes? It is, how you say, a recipe from my country." Her smile isn't like Itoko's--barely held together, a mask as fake as a cheap carnival trinket--but impenetrable, made of equal parts serenity and malice.

"Where did you say you were from? Again?" Haruna tried, but she can't keep her voice held high, so no one else listened. The homewrecker opened the dish and steam rises, carrying up a sweet scent.

"Is that....is that gluten-free?" Karin asked, already reaching for her purse.

"Oh yes!" says the Homewrecker. How does she even know what gluten-free means in Japanese? Is she just agreeing with whatever?

But Karin is flinging a few dollars into the cash box, and the homewrecker is spooning out a serving into a plastic cup made to resemble cut-china, and Karin is tasting it, stopping, raising a brow and giving the smallest most genuine smile. You can actually see her eyes past her giant Gucci sunglasses, full of surprise and genuine delight. "This? Is really good...Kaoru-san."

Haruna can't take it. She stomped off to the bathroom before she can crack. She hurled herself against the mirror, beating at her reflection. Her screams reverberated against tile. A part of her is aware that she would normally never even touch a school bathroom, would swathe everything in toilet paper and disinfectant spray from her purse in the rare emergency that she might have to. But she is too full of rage to stop crumpling her jacket against the glass, to not throw her meager strength against something in the hopes that it would break. But she isn't strong enough. Despite everything.

She shuddered as the sorrow reverberates through her. "I did everything right," she whimpered. She sobbed and her chest heaved. "Did you hear me, dammit?!" she screamed, "I said I did everything right! And it still wasn't enough! I got the top grades! I kept my legs closed! I got the awards and the admissions and the accolades, and where did it get me?"

The door creaked. Itoko cleared her throat. "This must be difficult for you," she said, monotone. Haruna allowed her to come closer. Her head slumped against the mirror. Itoko slowly put a hand on Haruna's shoulder.

"If this is all I get, after all this..." Haruna whispered, voice shaking. "Then what's going to happen to my daughter?" At this, Haruna can't hold it back any longer, and she wailed like a child.

Itoko patted Haruna's back like she's smoothing wrinkles out of a jacket. "That's why we have to work together, _ne_?" Haruna continued to howl. "That's what happens when we allow foreigners into this country."

Haruna took a deep breath, seized up, and snatched Itoko's hand from her back. Itoko yelped at her sudden, crushing strength. "Let's make this very clear." Haruna's eyes were wild. "We have nothing in common." She released her grip and Itoko skittered away like a fair maiden escaping a wild animal, whimpering all the way out of the bathroom. Haruna faced herself in the mirror. Air flowed into her chest slowly, in and out. She straightened her Chanel skirt, righted her necklace, and tried to smooth what wrinkles she can from her Dior jacket. She splashed tepid water in her face and smoothed smeared makeup. Then, with a deep breath and straightened back, she left the school to return to work.

She isn't sure she'll ever be back to the PTA. They'll be fine without her.


End file.
